


In Endless Chase

by BoxOnTheNile



Series: Storm [2]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Incubus Kepler, M/M, Phoenix Jacobi, fuck this is a series now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 22:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18127544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxOnTheNile/pseuds/BoxOnTheNile
Summary: He looks at Kepler without fear, knowing full well what the demon before him was capable of. Kepler doesn’t know what’s sweeter: the trusting adoration, or the taste of smoke on the back of his tongue as he stands in the aura of Jacobi’s soul.It’s like a chase he never wants to win.





	In Endless Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiterallyThePresident](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyThePresident/gifts).



> I posted "Follow the Storm" thinking _nobody's gonna be interested in my demon Kepler bullshit._ I was wrong.
> 
> Kepler-Incubus  
> Jacobi-Phoenix  
> Maxwell-Homunculus  
> Young-Naga  
> Cutter-Vampire
> 
> Title from "Storm" by Blackmore's Night. It's a trend.

Daniel Jacobi is temptation incarnate. From the moment Kepler laid eyes on him, he _wanted_ , this incredible enigma of a human that burned like flame. The flicker of Fire sits deep in his soul, and he brings that fire to world with wires and chemistry and a manic grin, and Kepler _wants._

Rachel Young does not let this pass. “Just eat him and get it over with,” she says, serpentine hiss in her voice. Jacobi, across the labs and up to his elbows in wires, doesn’t react. “You know Cutter would let it slide, he’s just _human_. The only reason he hasn’t sunk his own fangs in him is he’s polite enough to give you first dibs.”

“That would be a _waste_ , Miss Young, and I’ve never been in the habit of wasting talent.”

She scoffs. “You and your pointless self denial,” she said, rolling her eyes. She leaves him, waving a hand dismissively, and he almost, _almost_ goes after her, Thralls her into his bed and feeds off her soul until there's nothing left. 

He doesn't, because Cutter still thinks she’s useful.

“Boss?”

Kepler turns to find Jacobi watching him warily, and he’s concerned that maybe he and Young were overheard. “Mister Jacobi?”

“Far be it from me to tell you what to do, but you should probably watch the tail while surrounded by volatile explosives?”

Kepler’s tail has manifested, whip-thin and waving in agitation. Rachel always brings out the worst in him. It takes several moments to will it away. “I apologise, Mister Jacobi.”

Jacobi rubs compulsively at his arm, the one swathed in burn scars. “I’d just hate to see you hurt.” He twists around in his chair, elbows on the back, chin on his hands. “Can I help you with something, Boss?”

He looks at Kepler without fear, knowing full well what the demon before him was capable of. Kepler doesn’t know what’s sweeter: the trusting adoration, or the taste of smoke on the back of his tongue as he stands in the aura of Jacobi’s soul.

It’s like a chase he never wants to win.

 

* * *

 

Jacobi full body tackles Kepler to the ground, the concussive wave of the explosion passing over them. Kepler feels the heat of it, but it's barely more than uncomfortable. Even Jacobi's thin human skin would be unharmed. 

Jacobi climbs off of him a moment later, and all of Kepler's instincts scream for him to stop him, pull Jacobi back down and kiss him until Kepler has pulled that brilliant flicker of a soul into his body and consumed it completely. But that would be a _waste_ , to glut himself like that, so he settles for the taste of that glowing soul he sneaks when Jacobi helps him to his feet. It's smoke and gunpowder and embers and he wonders if Jacobi evens knows he's Magic Touched. 

“You okay there, boss?” Jacobi asks.

“I would have been fine regardless,” Kepler tells him, and Jacobi's high cheekbones burn red. “Still, it's... Appreciated.” It's cute. It's so _fucking_ tempting. 

His human grins up at him, head cocked to the side, eyes bright. For a moment, Kepler almost thinks he saw a flash of gold. “Of course, Major.”

That night, when Kepler feeds, he drains the woman dry. As he disposes of the body, he longs for the taste of smoke and Fire and sharp bite of Jacobi’s wit.

And that’s the real reason he doesn’t take to Jacobi to his bed. Because once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he can no longer imagine life without the bright burn of his right hand. These _embarrassing_ lapses in control are worth the sight of Jacobi wreathed in the fire of a distant explosion, as though he belongs there, surrounded by flame and ash.

 

* * *

 

Kepler’s chest rumbles with a continuous growl as he paces the confines of the devil’s trap. He can _sense_ the already weak electric buzz of Maxwell’s soul beginning to falter, and she is _his_. He will rip these insignificant _recreants_ to pieces once he is free.

“Major,” Maxwell says.

“Just hold on a little longer,” he orders. “We’ll get out of this.” He layers his voice with a Thrall, but it doesn’t make it past the trap, rebounding back painfully.

“A little longer needs to be less than two hours,” she tells him, “or you won’t have your favorite hacker anymore.”

“You’re going to be fine.” And she _will_ , he just needs a plan, he needs a second to _think_ past the stabbing discomfort of the sigil caging him.

The flicker of Fire in Jacobi’s soul grows, and Kepler’s eyes snap to him. His Second’s eyes are unfocused as he turns his attention inward, and Kepler can taste ash even through the trap. “Mister Jacobi,” he breathes, hungry and wanting, “have you been holding out on me?” 

“In my defense,” he says, flicking the melted remains of his bindings from his skin, “you never asked.” He breathes in deep, and the Fire roars. “Alana, I am so, so sorry.”

Jacobi is consumed by Fire, more than even a Magic-Blessed should be able to summon, and Kepler presses to the very edge of the sigil as though he could still save him.

The flame dies, and the Phoenix _sings._

The firebird launches, the heat of it scorching the trap, and Kepler forces himself to remember what matters and free Maxwell. He settles her on his back, and calls for his human’s—his _Phoenix’s_ attention. “Mister Jacobi?” Jacobi sings again, and Kepler’s mouth waters at way the Fire of his soul sings as well. “Burn this place to the ground.” 

He trusts Jacobi to get the job done.

Later, he will demand answers. Later, he will soothe Jacobi’s fear of cages and clipped wings, for why would he _ever_ contain the blazing joy he could sense in Jacobi during those moments of freedom? 

For now, he stands on the roof of a safehouse, watching a Phoenix rise from the destruction and ruin, and _hungers_.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at boxonthenile on tumblr and @nile_speaks on twitter.


End file.
